Endymion's Wake

VI. Guests of Hera

Guests of Hera | Cassandra

"Emilios, can you pass me the figs and goat cheese?" Asked Cassandra. Emilios heaved forward and grabbed the woven basket full of figs and handed it to his cousin. He slid the red clay plate across the floor with his left foot. "Disgusting! Just because your feet smell like cheese, doesn't mean I want them on my food," shouted Cassandra. Boys. Disgusting the lot of them, she thought. At least Chrysanthos has manners.

"Where's Chrysanthos? Normally, he's down by now," asked Cassandra, carefully cutting into the block of cheese opposite of Emilios' foot.

"I suspect he's freshening up for the potter's son," mumbled Emilios as he tore open a fig.

Cassandra looked at Emilios before taking a bite of the goat's cheese. "It looked like the boy made a good impression on my brother," she said watching Emilios' face. "I haven't seen him so happy in years."

Emilios pursed his lips before reaching for his wine. "I don't trust him."

"Chrysanthos?" asked Cassandra with a furrowed brow.

"Of course not, the muddy boy from the pits. He's trouble."

"I agree, but if we tell Chrysanthos that—"

"He'll fall deeper," finished Emilios, shaking his head. "He's as stubborn as grandfather."

"As are you, an apparent trait among the men in our family."

"You don't see me climbing hills with commoners! They can be bought, every last one of them. He knows better and finds every opportunity to remind me of my responsibilities," grumbled Emilios. His anger made he pause. She loved her cousin, but his volatility puts them at risk, not some boy of clay.

"Emilios," said Cassandra hoping to redirect his frustration from her brother to the boy. "He has no control over his life. He'd cling to anything he can call his own." She heard footsteps coming down the corridor behind her and dropped her voice to a whisper, "Keep it to yourself."

"As if any of us are in control of our lives," mumbled Emilios before turning his attention to Chrysanthos. "You're late," he called out from the pillow dotted floor. "Lessons begin soon."

"They'll begin when we get there, some as always," replied Chrysanthos with a chuckle. "I'm not the one on the floor."

The crunching gravel beneath her sandals, reminded her of the bard. She thought of his sweet song and long curled hair.

"Have fun with the potter's son, Chrysanthos?" asked Emilios, dragging Cassandra back from her daydream. She peered behind Chrysanthos' head and scowled at her cousin. "What did I say?" She mouthed angrily.

"I guess, we watched the races," replied Chrysanthos, absently.

"I guess? Podargos mentioned your antics in the hippodromos to Diocles. 'Inspecting grandfather's horses?' I didn't know he trusted you with such things," said Emilios.

Chrysanthos turned to Cassandra and gave her a quizzical look before replying to Emilios, "Cousin, I didn't know Diocles traipsed around the city as your little spy? Did you start paying him or does he get something else in return?"

Emilios slapped the back of Chrysanthos' head and sent him nearly tumbling to the ground.

"Emilios! We're in public! Stop the fighting," spat Cassandra under her breath. She looked around for anyone watching, but the few laborers on the road paid them no mind. "Be careful," she whispered. "The festival begins today and Vasilis comes this afternoon. He carries unwelcome news."

Rubbing the back of his head, Chrysanthos turned to Cassandra. "What are you talking about?"

"There are rumors."